Meant to be Broken
by knk4891
Summary: After a heated argument in seventh grade, Spinelli made T.J. promise to stay out of her life. T.J. honors her request, but that changes when Spinelli shows up at his tree house in the middle of the night nearly five years later.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first Recess story! I actually had this typed out months ago and never got around to posting it. But I figured it was time to share it. I'm not expecting too many reviews, since this section of the site isn't that active. Still, I'm pleased with how this first chapter came out, and I figure if only a few people read it, then that's fine with me.

Oh, and they are 17 in this story, which means it takes place in 2005, assuming that the gang were nine in 1997, when the show premiered. Enjoy!

* * *

T.J. watched the red numbers on the digital clock change from 1:59 to 2:00. He yawned and felt his eyelids droop again. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed his thermos full of coffee and chugged it down.

He hated the bitter liquid, but had been alternating between it and cans of Monster to keep himself awake on this early Monday morning. T.J. was usually a night owl and had no trouble staying up late, but he'd had little sleep over the weekend thanks to his busy social life. He had remembered a few hours ago that he had a history essay due tomorrow morning. The essay had actually been assigned over two weeks ago, but in typical T.J. fashion, he had forgotten about it the moment he walked out of the classroom.

T.J._ had_ to do well on this paper; there was only a week left in the school year, and a decent grade on this assignment would hopefully bump him up to a C in the class. After his last report card, a C was practically a miracle.

The high school junior put down his drink and continued typing on his laptop.

"Come on, Teej," he whispered as he checked the word count on the corner of the computer screen. "Less than two-hundred words to go. You can do this."

T.J. was in the middle of a sentence about the Civil War when something outside his window caught his eye. He immediately stood up and leaned in for a closer look. His heart started pounding when he saw a shadowy figure tip toeing around his yard.

Panic set in and his mind began to whirl; should he get his parents or call the cops first?

"Cops," T.J. decided, trying to remember where he had put his cell phone. However, looking out the window, he noticed how small the figure was. He realized the stranger was a female. She was headed for the old tree house that T.J.'s parents had planned to take down a few months ago but T.J. convinced them not to. There were just too many memories in that little house; even as a 17-year-old, T.J. had no shame in preserving it.

He closed the blinds, but peeked through them to watch the intruder make her way through the yard. The duffel bag she was carrying looked like it weighed more than she did. When the girl made it to the tree, she looked around to make sure no one was watching. When she did this, the light from the full moon caught her face and T.J. knew exactly who this mystery girl was:

Ashley Spinelli. He would know that face from anywhere.

"What the hell?" T.J. muttered to himself as he watched Spinelli climb the tree. He was baffled, but his heart rate had slowed down dramatically. At least he knew he wouldn't get robbed.

Well, come to think of it, he wasn't so sure about that.

Despite being best friends with her in elementary school, T.J. hadn't spoken to Spinelli in years. Things changed during seventh grade. Spinelli started acting weird; she would always come up with excuses so she didn't have to hang out with T.J. and their other friends. And when she _did_ hang out with them, she would seem bored. Eventually she started hanging around more with Conrad Mundy, Greg Skeens, Sue Bob Murphy, and the other "bad kids," and by the end of September of their seventh grade year, Spinelli was avoiding T.J. and the others entirely.

T.J. had been concerned; as soon as she started hanging out with her new "friends," Spinelli began skipping school, not doing her school work, and getting sent to the principal's office for bullying. T.J. did everything he could to get Spinelli to stop. He tried talking to her, setting up an intervention, even talking to her parents. Nothing worked. Spinelli would just get angry and throw one of her oh-so-charming temper tantrums.

Staring at the dark tree house out the window, T.J. couldn't help but remember the last time he had spoken to former best friend…

_T.J. had just gotten released from school after a long detention (he really should start setting his alarm clock earlier; these tardies were starting to add up). He was walking home and had just left the school grounds when he saw Spinelli smoking a cigarette with Mundy, Skeens, Sue Bob, Lazy Kid, and Kurst the Worst. _

_He was surprised by how much this sight bothered him. It wasn't like he was on a big anti-smoking campaign or something, but the thought his best friend's lungs getting poisoned by all that awful junk was disturbing, even if that friend had been a huge jerk lately. _

_T.J. took a deep breath and marched over toward the shady group. He couldn't just ignore this._

"_Spinelli!" T.J. yelled._

_All six kids turn toward him. Everyone scowled when they recognized him, except Lazy Kid; he just looked confused. Maybe he was smoking something other than a cigarette._

"_Wow," T.J. said, staring at Spinelli, "you're pretty cool now, smoking and all." Her appearance had certainly changed in the last few weeks, the most obvious differences being the ripped black jeans and cigarette between her lips._

"_Get lost, T.J.," Spinelli said, narrowing her eyes, which were outlined in black eyeliner. She looked like a raccoon. _

"_Actually, I was thinking about hanging out with you guys for a while," T.J. said lightly. He leaned against the graffiti-covered wall next to Lazy Kid, who looked like he was falling asleep. "I mean, you guys are so _cool_ and you're having such a fun time being all rebellious and whatnot."_

"_Get outta here, Detweiler," Mundy snarled. _

"_Yeah, before we _make_ you leave," Kurst added. T.J. notice that she was the only one in the group who wasn't smoking. It was a lollipop stick hanging out of her mouth._

_T.J. shrugged. "Well if you guys and Spinelli are hanging out, I figure I better hang out with you too. After all, Spinelli is one of my best friends, and any friend of Spinelli's is a friend of mine."_

_Mundy, Skeens, and the others exchanged glances and snickered. Spinelli, however, just rolled her eyes and stomped out her cigarette with much more force than she needed to. _

"_Detweiler, your hat's on too tight," Skeens said between laughs. "There's no way we're letting you hang out with us."_

"_Well I- Ow!" T.J. felt someone grab his arm and yank him away. He turned to see Spinelli looking madder than he had ever seen her look. _

_T.J. didn't put up a fight; he let Spinelli drag him, listening to her mutter curse words under her breath the whole way. He knew he was in for an earful. But this was his plan. He had to get her alone somehow. She let go of him at the edge of the elementary playground. _

"_Ah, Old Rusty," he said, admiring the old jungle gym with a smile. "This is where we met in kindergarten, remember? Well, sort of. They rebuilt it, so…"_

"_Cut the crap, Teej!" Spinelli spat. Her face was almost purple. "What the hell was that back there? Are you trying to embarrass me or something? 'Cause if you were, it worked!"_

_Now it was T.J.'s turn to roll his eyes. "Come on, Spinelli. This," he gestured at her midriff baring tank top, "isn't you. I mean, _smoking_? __Really, Spin? Weren't you the one who got your mom to stop smoking after watching that video in health class back in fifth grade?"_

_Spinelli continued to glare at him, her chest rising and falling with each angry breath. She looked annoyed, but at least she was listening. He decided to press his luck and continue._

"_Look, just tell me why you're doing this," T.J. said gently. "Did one of our friends do something wrong? Are you mad at someone? Is it stress? Just tell me, and we can—"_

"_I'm fine," Spinelli said through clenched teeth. "No one did anything, and the only thing that's stressing me out is you being on my case all the time!"_

"_Well I'm worried about you, Spin!" T.J. heard his voice get louder. "You're twelve years old and smoking! You're cutting school! You're always getting sent to the principal's office!"_

_Spinelli let out a humorless laugh. "Ha! Like you should be the one giving me lectures over getting sent to the office."_

"_Pranks are one thing, Spinelli," T.J. pointed out. "Throwing kids in trash cans is another story."_

_She snorted. "Yeah, and I'll bet Saint T.J. here has never skipped school."_

"_I didn't say I was perfect," T.J. crossed his arms. "But what exactly are you doing when you cut class, Spin? 'Cause I have a feeling you're not watching cartoons on the couch."_

_T.J. watched Spinelli's dark eyes narrow into slits. After a few seconds, rolled her eyes and shook her head._

"_I don't need this," she said. She turned to walk away, but T.J. grabbed her. _

"_Let go!" she yelled, trying to yank her arm from him._

_T.J. only tightened his grip. "Spinelli, please. You don't have to do this. Mundy, Kurst… they're nothing but trouble. Come back to me and Gretchen and Vince and the others. We're your real friends. We care about you."_

_Spinelli stopped struggling for release. She inhaled deeply through her nose and looked T.J. in the eyes. _

"_You really care about me?" she asked. Her voice was suddenly eerily calm._

"_Of course," he answered without hesitation. "We all do."_

_Spinelli nodded, and T.J. let go of her arm. This was it. Spinelli was going to ditch those losers and remember who her real friends were. _

"_If you really care about me," Spinelli said slowly, "you'll let me do what I want."_

_T.J. blinked. He hadn't been expecting that._

"_So you want to end up in jail in a few years?" T.J. asked. "Because that's where you'll end up if you keep hanging out with these losers."_

"_Hey!" Spinelli shouted. "These are my friends now. And you," Spinelli jabbed her index finger at T.J.'s chest, "aren't."_

_He felt like someone had punched him in the stomach._

"_But Spinelli—" _

"_T.J.," she said in a low voice, "if you really care about me, you'll leave me alone."_

_T.J. swallowed hard. This wasn't happening. All those years of friendship couldn't end like this._

"_You don't mean that," he managed to say. _

"_I do!" Spinelli threw her hands in the air. "I _do_ mean it! How many times do I have to say it before you get it through your thick skull? Leave. Me. Alone!"_

"_Can we please just talk about this? Tell me why you don't want to be friends. Was it something I did? Just tell me!"_

_Spinelli had already started backing up. "Seriously T.J., just get out of my life, okay?" _

_T.J. clenched his hands at his sides and tried not to think about how much that hurt. "Spinelli—"_

"_Promise me, Teej," she was practically pleading with him now. "Promise me you'll just leave me alone."_

_No, no, no. He couldn't give up on her. What kind of friend would he be if he just let her go? But if this was the only way to prove to her that he really cared…_

"_Fine," he heard the words leave his mouth, but it didn't feel like he was actually saying them. "I promise."_

_T.J. watched her turn her back and walk away. He found himself counting her steps. One, two, three, four… _

_Maybe she'll turn around. Maybe she'll come back. _

_Eleven, twelve, thirteen steps._

Please,_ T.J. thought. _Stop and turn around.

_Eighteen, nineteen, twenty…_

_She wasn't coming back._

"_Hey, Spinelli!" he called before he could stop himself. Technically, he had broken his promise already, but there was one last thing he wanted to say._

_To his surprise, Spinelli actually stopped walking. She didn't turn around, but she was clearly listening._

"_Happy Birthday!" he shouted loud enough so she could hear. _

_Spinelli would turn thirteen the next Saturday. T.J. never forgot his friends' birthdays. _

_He watched her, hoping that she'd turn around and smile. She'd always been amused by his ability to never forget birthdays. _

_But Spinelli didn't turn. Instead, she started walking again, to her new friends. She didn't even look back. _

T.J. blinked a few times, trying to snap back to the present.

He'd been trying to block that memory out for so long; he hated everything about it. He hated the fact that the whole thing had been so stupidly dramatic like a lame soap opera. He hated that his plan to win back his friend had completely failed. Most of all, he hated that his best friend made him promise to never speak to her again and he had no idea why.

Things between his old friends had changed since then. Vince LaSalle was the only one of T.J.'s elementary friends who he was still close with, since they played on the same sports teams and went to the same parties. Gus Griswald had moved away the summer between fifth and sixth grade. Gretchen Grundler had started her freshman year of high school going to a boarding school for gifted students, and Mikey Blumberg had been hanging out with the choir and band kids since middle school.

Of course T.J. was a little disappointed that he and a majority of his old crew hadn't remained close into their high school years. He still sent the occasional e-mail to Gretchen and Gus, and he would say hi to Mikey in the hallways at school, but it wasn't the same. But, as much as T.J. would have liked for things to stay the same, he understood why he and most of his friends had gone their separate ways.

Spinelli, however, was a totally different story.

To this day, T.J. still had no idea why Spinelli stopped being his friend. It wasn't like she had a bad home life (that he knew of), and he couldn't think of anything anyone did to make Spinelli mad enough to hang out with the trouble-makers of the school. It just didn't make any sense.

He saw a faint light coming from the tree house, which jerked him back to reality. The girl sitting in his yard was a complete mystery. It was weird; T.J. used to be able to read Spinelli better than anyone else, and out of all his friends, he felt that he knew her the best, even better than Vince. But now she was a total stranger.

T.J. had heard some things about her. Mostly from Butch, who gossiped more than a nosy old lady. As far as T.J. knew, Spinelli had been on-and-off with Greg Skeens the last few years. Apparently when Spinelli was "off" with Skeens, she didn't waste time finding new… um, "acquaintances."

Yes, Spinelli was supposedly a slut now. Just the thought made T.J. feel sick. He had played Ring Around the Rosy with this girl for God's sake! In kindergarten, they would listen to Bonky cassette tapes together after school in T.J.'s room, and even though Spinelli threatened to "punch him in the head" if he ever told anyone, they would sing along and dance to every word. How could that same cute little girl, the one with the pigtails and orange ski cap, end up doing things like… _that?_

Of course, these were just rumors (although T.J. would be more surprised if they_ weren't_ true). He didn't see Spinelli much anymore. He rarely saw her at school (most likely because she just doesn't show up), and despite living a few houses away from her, he never saw Spinelli around the neighborhood. Every now and then he would see her parents, but she was never with them.

The little black vertical line blinked on T.J.'s word document, reminding him to finish his report.

"Damn it," T.J. muttered.

There was no way he could focus on homework anymore. He ran a hand through his messy brown hair and kept his gaze on the old tree house. Why the hell was Spinelli sitting in his tree house? He hadn't said a word to her in over four years, yet there she was, making herself at home. And speaking of home, wasn't Spinelli's a few yards away? Why wasn't she at her own house at this time?

Screw the coffee and energy drinks. T.J. was wide awake now.

He started pacing around his room, wondering what to do. He desperately wanted to know why she was sneaking into his old tree house at two o'clock in the morning. In order to find out, he'd have to talk to her, which would mean breaking his promise, and T.J. took promises _very_ seriously; he always had, and he always will. He was a man of his word.

"She wants me to leave her alone," T.J. said in the dark room. Talking to himself, as well as pacing, was an old habit that just wouldn't die. "I told her I'd stay out of her life." He glanced at the tree and frowned. "But she's in _my_ yard. _She's_ coming into _my _life, right?"

He paced again, but stopped when he got to his bulletin board. Underneath all the clippings of newspaper articles that mentioned his baseball and soccer teams was an old photograph that he couldn't bring himself to remove. He moved aside an article about how his baseball team made it to state last year to reveal a picture from a disposable camera.

The photograph was slightly faded and a corner was torn, but the image was clear; it was T.J. and Spinelli back in fourth grade, one of T.J.'s most memorable years of his life. He and Spinelli had their arms around each other. T.J. was grinning at the camera, while Spinelli was in the middle of laughing at a joke he had just told. T.J. couldn't remember what he had said that was so funny, but he remembered how hard Spinelli had laughed and how satisfied he felt from the fact that he made her happy.

He raised his eyebrows. He hadn't given it much thought, but it was almost as if he'd had _feelings_ for Spinelli when they were younger. It hadn't occurred to T.J. back then that he may have had a crush, but looking back, he realized that he saw Spinelli differently than his other friends. After all, he was good friends with Gretchen, and he never felt like he knew her the same way he knew Spinelli.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she was his first kiss. There was nothing romantic about the kiss, as they had basically been forced into it by their curious classmates. And no one in the group ever brought the kiss up again. But you can't just forget the person who gave you your first kiss, regardless of the circumstances.

Then there was that time that Spinelli's mom let it slip that Spinelli had a crush on him, but Mrs. Spinelli had also called him B.J. (Vince_ still_ teased him for that), so he didn't take the accusation that seriously. Then there was the whole Johnny V. thing… T.J. remembered feeling weird about that situation. At the time, he wasn't sure why he felt that way; but looking back on it as a teenager, he had a theory why he did.

T.J. sighed and put the picture back. Why did he have to realize all this _now_? But he could be wrong. It wasn't like he had ever fantasized about marrying Spinelli or anything; he remembered thinking she looked nice when she was tricked into competing into that beauty pageant in fourth grade, and he thought she looked great in that lavender dress she wore for their elementary graduation ceremony. But he never even considered asking her to be his girlfriend or anything like that; she was just Spinelli, his pal.

"Right," T.J. muttered. "A pal."

Maybe it was time to stop thinking so much about the past. After all, he and Spinelli were juniors in high school, basically adults. They should be able to carry on a mature conversation; T.J. knew _he_ could. Maybe Spinelli would be over the whole "Stay out of my life" crap by now.

Before he could stop himself, T.J. grabbed his hooded jacket from the back of his desk chair and a flashlight from his drawer before leaving his bedroom. He made his way downstairs, not bothering to be quiet. Both of his parents were incredibly heavy sleepers, which made sneaking in and out of his house at unreasonable hours a breeze. It was so easy that it was almost disappointing; he knew he could come up with some amazing exiting and entering plans, but he never needed to do so with Sleeping Beauty and Rip Van Winkle for parents.

After slipping into his too-old sneakers, he exited through the sliding kitchen door and walked across the yard. He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a little shiver; it got sort of chilly at this hour.

There was a still faint glow coming from the tree house. He cautiously climbed up the ladder, which was made of planks of wood that had seen better days. When he reached the top, he silently lifted up the trap door.

Sitting with her back hunched over a small book was Ashley Spinelli. The dark almond shaped eyes, the button nose, the full lips, the black hair… just like from when they were friends. However, her shoulder length hair was streaked with red and faded purple, there was a small stud in that little nose, and those almond shaped eyes were rimmed in thick black eyeliner. She was also wearing a short, tattered denim skirt and an over-sized black hoodie. At least she was still wearing her old black boots.

It was funny how someone could look so different, yet exactly the same.

Spinelli hadn't seemed to notice T.J., as she was entranced by whatever she was reading. She held her open flip phone close to the pages, the dim blue light revealing a half-empty bottle of Mountain Dew and a can of Pringles next to her.

She almost looked like a homeless person, which didn't make much sense, considering that her home was right down the street. There were so many questions that T.J. wanted answered, and he supposed he'd better get started on them now.

_Here goes nothing._

"Hey, Spinelli," he whispered. He didn't want to scare her.

T.J. heard a gasp, and then he was momentarily blinded as Spinelli turned her phone toward him. Damn, that light was brighter than he thought.

"Don't worry," he said, pushing himself up to the wooden floor. "It's just me."

Spinelli lowered her phone. She stared at him for a moment before sighing and rolling her eyes.

"That's what I was afraid of."

* * *

Sorry that wasn't the most exciting chapter ever. Things get better in chapter 2 though! Please review to tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Things start getting good here. And this chapter is from Spinelli's point of view. I'll alternate the points of view every other chapter. Hope ya like this chapter. Please leave a review to tell me what you think!

* * *

Shit.

Shit, shit, _shit!_

This was not supposed to happen. She'd been careful; she was as quick and quiet as possible. She looked around to make sure no one was watching. She'd looked directly at his bedroom window, and the blinds were closed, the lights had been off.

But there he was; T.J. Detweiler, alone with her in a tree house at God-knows-what hour in the morning.

Spinelli knew it was stupid to be surprised he was there. After all, it was _his_ tree house in _his _yard. This situation was pretty likely, and she was an idiot for thinking she could have avoided it.

Without thinking twice, she moved to grab her things. She couldn't do this; she couldn't face him after all these years.

"Where are you doing?" T.J. asked, lifting himself into the little house.

Spinelli avoided looking at him by stuffing her Pringles can and Mountain Dew bottle in her bag. "What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped, yanking up the zipper. "I'm getting the hell out of here."

She was about the crawl toward the door when she heard him say, "What's this?"

Her head automatically jerked toward T.J., who was staring at the small pink book she had been reading.

"Oh my God!" There was laughter in his voice when he picked up his sister's old diary. "Is this what I think it is?"

Spinelli didn't answer. She watched her former best friend as he flipped through the pages. It was dark, but the full moon revealed his familiar hazel eyes scanning through the pages, and every once in a while he would chuckle at something written. He still had that same smile he'd always had; mischievous, yet heart-warming. The kind of smile that you'd want to see all the time.

Actually, a lot of things about T.J appeared to be the same; it had been a while since Spinelli had seen him up close. His thick brown hair was just as messy as it had been when he was little, and his nose and cheeks were still dusted with light freckles. He had, however, gotten taller and lost most of his baby fat. Spinelli would never _ever_ admit it out loud, but she could see why some girls thought T.J. was cute. He wasn't hot in an athletic way like Vince LaSalle (another opinion of hers that would never leave the vault) or in a mysterious way like Butch, but he was good-looking in a friendly, boy-next-door sort of way.

"I don't get it. How did you get this?"

T.J.'s voice snapped her out of her embarrassing thoughts.

"Huh?" was her intelligent response.

"How'd you get this?" T.J. held up Becky's diary as if it were the Holy Grail. "I gave this back to my sister after we saved the school."

"Vince and I snuck back into her room and swiped it a few days later," Spinelli admitted. "We hid it up here in case we ever needed it for black mail."

T.J.'s grin only widened. "I wish you would've told me. Becky still accuses me of stealing this back _to this day_."

Spinelli shrugged. "Yeah, well…"

She trailed off. Why the hell was she still here?

"I gotta go," she muttered, making her way toward the door.

"Wait." T.J. moved in front of her. Once again, he was blocking her way.

Her eyes narrowed in a way she knew was intimidating, even to guys. "Move."

"Spinelli," T.J. said, his voice softer than it had been a few seconds before, "what are you doing in my tree house?"

"Trying to get out of it," she shot back.

T.J. frowned. "Look, Spinelli," he said in his mighty-leader tone that instantly reminded Spinelli of all those elementary recesses. "This is my tree house, and I think I deserve to know why someone is in it."

Spinelli exhaled sharply through her nose. She knew that he wouldn't back down. Backing down was not something T.J. Detweiler believed in. However, he did believe in something else…

"You promised me you'd leave me alone, remember?" Spinelli reminded him.

He nodded. "Right. But I think that sort of goes out the window when you show up in my backyard at two in the morning." He paused and raised his eyebrows. "Besides, don't you think we're mature enough to have a conversation now? I'm not saying we have to be best friends again. But we can at least talk, Spinelli. Right?"

Spinelli snorted and stared at the dark ceiling in disbelief. After the shitty night she'd had, the last thing she wanted to do was_ talk _to anybody. She just wanted to go to sleep.

"What are you doing here?"

Spinelli didn't know how it happened, but the way T.J. had asked those five words suddenly made her want to tell someone the shit she had been through that night. Not to him necessarily, but she wanted to tell somebody. This was pretty bizarre, considering three seconds earlier she would've rather jumped out the tree house window and suffered a broken bone than tell T.J. anything about her personal life.

But it was something about the way T.J. had asked… she knew he just wanted to help. And like he said, it didn't mean they had to be friends or anything. He would just be there to hear her vent.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," Spinelli said after a long silence, her voice firm and louder than necessary. "There. You happy?"

T.J. blinked a few times as Spinelli tossed her bag on the floor and sat down. She obviously wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"You don't have anywhere to go?" T.J. repeated.

"You got crayons in your ears?" Spinelli snarled. "That's what I just said."

A few beats of silence passed. She knew he probably had a million questions and was probably trying to figure out which one to ask. T.J. was nosy like that. He always had been.

"My folks kicked me out," she blurted.

Well technically, she had pretty much kicked herself out. She and her parents weren't getting along, so she decided not to stay there anymore. But it wasn't like her mom and dad begged her to come back. They tried to "reason" with her a few times, but quickly gave up. Occasionally Spinelli would go back to the house to get clothes or something, and she would ignore her parents if she saw them. She figured by stopping in every few weeks she would at least assure them that she was alive. They'd probably call the cops if she didn't.

T.J.'s eyes were wide as he sat down next to her. "When did they kick you out?" he asked.

"A few months ago," was her casual response, even though the exact date was January 3, 2005, which was four months and eleven days ago from today. Not that Spinelli cared enough to keep track or anything…

"So where have you been staying?"

"Friends," Spinelli muttered. She was getting into uncomfortable territory now. "Usually Skeens or Sue Bob."

"So where are your _friends_ now?" his voice was dripping with _I told you so_, which pissed Spinelli off, but surprisingly not enough to stop talking.

"They're assholes," she said. She hoped he would leave it at that. This was as far as she was willing to go.

More silence. Spinelli wondered what was going on in that crazy, way-too-optimistic brain of his. He was probably judging her, probably coming up with some inspiring speech about how she shouldn't have let go of her "true" friends all those years ago, blah, blah, blah.

She tensed as soon as he spoke, prepared to defend herself. But instead of a lecture, T.J. just asked, "So why would you come here of all places?"

Spinelli stared at her scuffed boots when she answered.

"Remember when your dad first built this tree house the summer before first grade?"

T.J. leaned back and gave a wistful smile. "Like it was yesterday."

"As soon as he was done, you, me, Gretchen, Vince, and Mikey spent the whole day playing in here. And at the end of the day, you said something like, 'You guys can come here whenever you want. You don't even have to ask.' So I guess I just figured that invitation was still open."

She pondered this for a second and laughed at how ridiculous she sounded, how ridiculous this whole situation was. This was how desperate she was; she was sitting in an old tree house with her old best friend who she vowed she would never speak to again. Yet there they were, him listening to her blab on about how she remembered a conversation from first grade.

"Pretty lame, huh?" Spinelli said aloud.

She realized at that moment that T.J. wasn't laughing. He was just sitting there, looking at her.

"Not at all," he said.

The way he was looking at her was a red flag. He had that same hopeful, yet sad expression on his face that he'd had right before she told him to stay out of her life. She realized that she had fucked up royally by giving into this heart-to-heart conversation. He probably thought they could be friends again. She was _not_ about to deal with this. Not now, not _ever._

She shook her head and picked up her bag again. "This was obviously a mistake coming here," she said.

"I thought you said you didn't have anywhere to go," he pointed out.

She pushed passed him. "I'll figure something out."

"Where do you plan on sleeping, Spinelli?" he asked. "The bench at the park?"

Spinelli didn't answer because that was exactly where she was planning on sleeping.

"You know," T.J said, "Becky's old room isn't being used. The sheets are clean. My parents wouldn't mind—"

"You're parents wouldn't _know_," Spinelli said, whipping around to face T.J., who flinched at Spinelli's sudden movement. "_No one_ would know because you wouldn't tell anyone."

A grin slowly crossed T.J.'s face. "So does that mean—"

"Just for tonight," Spinelli said before she could stop herself. "Just for a few hours of sleep and then I'll be gone."

T.J. looked satisfied, which was exactly opposite of how Spinelli felt. But she would get a bed out of this deal, which beat sleeping on the wooden floor of a tree house that was over a decade old, or a cold park bench where creepy old men could be lurking around.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to turn it down," T.J. said in that cocky voice of his.

"Shut up," Spinelli grunted as she pushed past him to climb down the ladder.

They walked through the yard toward the house when Spinelli's grumbling stomach broke the silence.

T.J. smirked at her. "I take it those Pringles didn't fill you up."

Spinelli kept walking. She wasn't going to let him get to her.

"I think we have some leftover spaghetti in the fridge," T.J. told her. He opened the screen door and they walked inside.

Spinelli's mouth watered at the idea of Mrs. Detweiler's delicious spaghetti. It was her favorite dish, and Mrs. D.'s recipe was right up there with her mother's.

"I guess I could go for some spaghetti," she said nonchalantly, even though there was nothing she wanted more. She placed her duffel bag on the floor and sat at the kitchen table.

When T.J. was heating up the food, Spinelli looked around the house. It was almost just the same as she remembered; dark blue walls, tile floor, even the clean cotton-scented cleaning products and the small television set on the counter. Spinelli had actually kind of missed it.

She jumped in her seat when T.J. slammed the microwave door.

"Jesus Christ!" She pressed a hand to her pounding heart. "What the hell was that? Are you _trying_ to wake your parents up?"

"Relax." The plate made a loud clink against the table as T.J. set it in front of her. "My parents could sleep through a plane crash."

Spinelli snorted. "Of course _you_ of all people would have heavy sleepers for parents."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

Spinelli didn't answer; she couldn't if she wanted to. Her mouth was full of pasta and delicious tomato sauce. She had no shame in shoveling as much of it in her mouth as she could. She'd lived on Pop Tarts, candy bars, and potato chips the last four months and eleven days, so eating spaghetti was a real treat.

She ate (well, _inhaled _would be more fitting) her meal without saying a word, and T.J. just stood there in the kitchen without bothering her. For a while, she'd actually forgotten he was there. It was just her and that beautiful plate of food. _Warm food._

After cleaning her plate by licking up the extra sauce, she dropped her fork and let out a loud burp. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so full.

"Wow," she heard T.J. say. "Someone was hungry."

"Damn straight," Spinelli confirmed, not caring that she had admitted her hunger to him. She put her dirty dishes in the sink and picked up her bag. She and T.J. headed up to Becky's room.

T.J. opened the bedroom door at the top of the stairs. Like the Detweiler's kitchen, Becky's room hadn't changed. There were still posters of stupid boy bands covering the ugly pink, white, and green striped wallpaper. But at least there was a bed. And Spinelli would have her own room for a few hours.

"Do you need a toothbrush or pajamas or anything?" T.J. asked.

"No, I'm good." Spinelli patted her bag. She didn't mention that she wouldn't be brushing her teeth before bed; she wanted to hold on to that spaghetti sauce taste as long as she could. She knew that was totally gross, but she was a homeless person, and homeless people didn't care about being gross.

"Okay then," T.J. said. "Well, let me know if you need anything."

He turned to leave, and Spinelli was about to just let him go. A quick, non-verbal parting was exactly what she wanted. Unfortunately, tonight Spinelli was suffering from some sort of bizarre illness that made her talk too much.

"Hey," she heard herself say.

T.J. turned around. "Yeah?"

Spinelli stuffed her hands in the pockets of her skirt and stared at the pink carpet. "Uh… thanks. For, you know… everything."

She looked up and T.J. gave her one of his friendly, sweet smiles. "No problem, Spinelli."

Then there was that look again… that look he'd given her when he thought she'd be his friend again. He probably thought they were going to end up being best buddies again, and if he believed that was possible, he would make life a living hell for both of them.

"You know this doesn't change anything," Spinelli told him. This time she looked him in the eye. He needed to understand this; he needed to know she was serious. "We're not, like, friends or anything."

T.J. nodded. He was still smiling, but it was a sad smile, as if he was reluctantly accepting her words.

"I know," he said quietly. "Good night, Spinelli."

He gently closed the door and he was gone.

Spinelli kicked off her shoes and climbed into Becky's bed without changing into her large t-shirt and shorts she used as pajamas. She was too exhausted.

After setting the alarm on her cell phone, Spinelli sighed and stared at the ceiling. The words she'd just exchanged with T.J. ran through her head.

_This doesn't change anything,_ she'd said.

But she was pretty sure that it had, in fact, changed _everything._


	3. Chapter 3

"T.J.! Honey are you up?"

_Knock, knock, knock!_

T.J. flinched at his mother's voice and the knocking against his bedroom door. He'd just had the craziest dream; Spinelli had come over to his house in the middle of the night and they talked for the first time since middle school.

"Sweetheart? Did you hear me?"

Wait… that wasn't a dream. That really happened.

_Knock, knock, knock!_

"T.J.! Do you have any idea what time it is?"

T.J.'s eyes snapped open. He'd woke up in the same position he'd fallen asleep; lying slightly crooked on the bed, over the covers, facing the ceiling with his arms tucked behind his head.

"You'll be late for school again! Honey, the last thing you need is another tardy!"

T.J. sat up and turned toward the digital clock on his nightstand. The glowing red numbers read 7:43. Then his gaze fell toward the computer sitting on his desk…

_Shit._

Heart pounding, T.J. jumped off the bed and raced toward the desk. He pulled up his Word Document and cursed under his breath when he saw that the word count on his paper revealed he was still one hundred words short.

"T.J., do you—"

"I hear you, Mom!" T.J. shouted as he began to type. "I'm getting ready right now!"

"Well hurry up!" His mom yelled from the other side of the door. "You can't afford to be late again!"

T.J. didn't like admitting it, but his mother was right. If he got another tardy, he'd be forced to endure Saturday detentions that would carry over into summer time. Well, that's what Principal Brown said anyway; T.J. wasn't sure if students could be held in detention over summer break, but he wasn't about to find out.

He typed the conclusion of his paper. He threw in an extra "really" or "very" every now and then, and made sure he used "it is" instead of "it's" and "do not" instead of "don't." Before he knew it, he was done.

While his paper printed, T.J. jumped into a pair of jeans and threw on a t-shirt that may or may not have been clean. He swiped on some deodorant, figuring that would make him smell decent until he could get a chance to use the showers after fourth period gym class.

After giving his teeth a quick brush and his hair an even quicker comb-through, T.J. hurried back to his room to staple the pages of his report together. Then he checked the clock: 7:55. There was still time; he could make it!

He stuffed the paper in his backpack and hurried down the hall. However, he stopped in his tracks when he passed Becky's room.

He knew Spinelli wasn't inside. There was just no way.

But still… it was possible. Maybe…

He opened the door to his sister's old room. The bed was unmade and empty. The only evidence that Spinelli was there at all were the few chunks of mud left behind from her boots.

He hadn't expected her to be there, yet he felt his heart drop a bit.

"Why?" T.J. asked himself. "What was I expecting? Was I going to invite her to breakfast or something?"

Actually, he probably would have. If he wasn't late for school, of course.

This reminded him: HE WAS LATE FOR SCHOOL!

T.J. raced downstairs and headed toward the screen door.

"Bye mom, bye dad!" he called, vaguely noticing his father rummaging around the refrigerator.

"T.J., wait!" his mother said.

He stopped with his hand on the door handle. Letting out an irritated sigh, he turned and asked, "What?"

Mrs. Detweiler handed him a package of Pop tarts and an orange Gatorade.

"You have to eat _something_," she said with a grin.

T.J. returned his mom's smile and said, "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, dear," she replied. "Have a great day!"

"Will do!" T.J. said, opening the door. Before he left, he thought he heard his dad say something about how he thought they had more leftover spaghetti.

T.J. managed to run into homeroom less than three seconds before the bell rang. Panting, he made his way toward his usual seat in the back row next to his friend Vince LaSalle.

Vince hadn't changed all that much since he was younger. He kept his black hair short and still wore jerseys to school. He was tall and lean, but had plenty of muscle. Vince was easily the most popular kid in the junior class, and some may argue that he was the most popular kid in the whole school. He was a star football, basketball, baseball, and track star, and he still wasn't sure which sport he wanted to continue in college. He already had tons of offers in all four sports.

T.J. knew that a lot of people thought Vince was a jerk, and sometimes he was; he was often cocky and condescending. But everyone treated Vince like a god, and all that attention would go to anyone's head. Besides, T.J. knew that Vince was still the sensible, observant, hard-working person he'd known since kindergarten. Vince was a good guy, he just got blinded by his own greatness.

"Sleep through your alarm again, Teej?" Vince asked with a snicker as his friend took the seat next to him.

T.J. wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Actually," he breathed, still gasping for air, "I forgot to _set _my alarm."

Vince just smiled and shook his head. "How could you forget to set your alarm? Aren't you always going on about how you'll get Saturday detentions this summer if you keep getting tardies?" Vince paused and frowned in thought. "Actually, I don't think that's legal. They can't keep for detentions in the summer time, right?"

The morning announcements came on the loud speaker, but as usual, no one paid them much attention.

"I know why you forgot to set your alarm," Vince said. "You were up late working on that paper for History, weren't you?"

T.J. grinned. "Guilty as charged."

Vince chuckled. "Man, you've got to get organized. Take a tip from me; I run track and play baseball at the same time, but thanks to my trusty schedule, I'm able to dominate at both."

"I'll keep that in mind," T.J. said, opening the silver packaging to reveal a strawberry Pop Tart.

Someone sitting next to Vince asked him if he'd seen the NBA game last night, and Vince happily started going into details. While his friend chatted, T.J. debated whether to tell him about what had happened with Spinelli. After Spinelli told T.J. to stop talking to her, Vince said some pretty horrible things about her that made T.J. wonder if Vince ever liked her in the first place.

"Who needs her?" Vince snarled back in seventh grade when T.J. had told him that their friendship with Spinelli was officially over. "What kind of friend was she anyway? All she ever did was throw temper tantrums and threaten to beat people up. There are way cooler people to hang out with than Spinelli. _You_ should've dumped _her_, not the other way around."

Vince went on and on, trying to convince T.J. that he shouldn't feel bad that he hadn't been able to change Spinelli's mind. Normally T.J. would've defended her, but his heart just wasn't in it. Besides, at the time it felt good just to know someone was on his side.

Vince and T.J. rarely saw Spinelli at school, but when they did, Vince would usually crack about Spinelli's multi-streaked hair or revealing miniskirts.

"What a freak show," Vince would mutter as they passed their ex-friend, who was usually either stomping down the hall scowling or making out with Skeens under the stairs. "Why did we ever hang out with that piece of trash?"

It didn't help that Vince was in the "on" stage of his on-again-off-again relationship with Ashley Quinlan. The Ashleys, as powerful as the clique used to be, had dissolved over the years. Ashley B. transferred to some fancy Manhattan boarding school in sixth grade. Ashley T. got cut from cheerleading in seventh grade, and then got braces that very same week. Needless to say, she was no longer invited to associate with the other two Ashleys after this sudden "loser" transformation, so she started hanging out with Laura Jameson and Allison Baker (formerly known as Swinger Girl and Upside Down Girl, respectively). In high school, Ashley Q. had found her talents in sports and was now a volleyball and basketball star. Ashley A. had predictably gone on to become a pretty, popular cheerleader. Yes, T.J. and his old friends weren't the only tight group who went their separate ways since elementary school.

T.J. respected Ashley Q. because of her athletic ability, and he managed to get along with her decently since she was his best friend's girlfriend. But Ashley Q. had no problem judging others and whispering about people behind their backs. So it wasn't a surprise that she and Vince would make fun of people (not to their faces, of course), and Spinelli was a common target.

Despite all this, T.J. wanted to tell someone what had happened. Maybe Vince hated Spinelli, but he was still T.J.'s friend. What was the harm in just mentioning it?

"Hey, Vince," T.J. spoke up when he noticed the basketball conversation starting to fade.

Vince faced his friend. "Yeah?"

"Guess who came into my tree house at two o'clock this morning?"

Vince frowned. "Um… Jessica Simpson?"

T.J. rolled his eyes, but couldn't hold back a smile. "Yeah, Jessica Simpson. After we made out, we put on our jetpacks and flew to Jupiter for a party."

Vince laughed. "Hey, you never know! Okay, Teej, who was in your tree house?"

"Spinelli."

Vince's smile instantly disappeared. "Spinelli? As in, _Ashley_ Spinelli? The Spinelli who parades around in tight black clothes and is always shoving her tongue down some guy's throat?"

T.J. shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That's the one."

Vince blinked a few times as if he was trying to grasp the concept. After a few seconds, he leaned back in his chair and shook his head in disbelief.

"Your story about Jessica Simpson is more believable," Vince told him.

T.J. sighed. "I know it sounds crazy, but she was really there. Spinelli, I mean. Not Jessica," T.J. clarified. "Anyway, I was working on that stupid history paper when I saw someone creeping around the backyard. Then she climbed up in the tree house, so I went out to see what was going on. I asked her what she was—"

"Whoa!" Vince exclaimed, sitting up and looking alert. "Wait up. You _talked _to her?"

"Well, yeah," T.J. said with a shrug. "I couldn't just ignore the fact that there was a girl camping out in my old tree house."

"Didn't she tell you not to speak to her again?" Vince asked slowly.

"She did," T.J. confirmed. "But that was like, a hundred years ago. I figured she'd be over all that by now and we could talk like mature young adults."

Vince let out a laugh. "Yeah, right. So did you talk like mature young adults? Did you have some tea and crumpets afterwards?"

"We did talk, actually," T.J. said, ignoring Vince's teasing. "I mean, at first it seemed like she didn't really want to, but eventually she told me some stuff. It turns out she was in the tree house 'cause she had nowhere else to go. Her folks kicked her out."

Vince snorted. "Spinelli's parents would never kick her out. Bob and Flo _adore _Spinelli. No matter how bad she is, they wouldn't kick her out of the house," he said. It was strange hearing Vince say something that wasn't negative about their former friend.

T.J. shrugged. "She said they kicked her out a few months back."

"Nah," Vince disagreed with a frown. "She must be running away or something. Of course, she must be a pretty shitty runaway if she only made it to the tree house a few feet away from her parent's place."

"Okay, but even if she's running away, why didn't she stay at one of her friends' houses?"

"Beats me," Vince said with a shrug. "Maybe she told them never to speak to her ever again. She's good at that."

T.J. sighed but continued. "Anyway, I invited her inside to eat some leftover spaghetti. I let her sleep in Becky's room, but she was gone when I checked the room this morning."

Vince frowned and was quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in. "Let me get this straight. _Spinelli_, who hasn't spoken to you in years, randomly shows up at your tree house at two in the morning. Then you two have a chat and you invite her inside your house for a snack. Then you let her sleep in your sister's old room."

"Yep."

Vince sighed and looked at his old friend. "Teej," he said cautiously, "you don't think you two are going to become friends again, do you?"

"No, of course not," was T.J.'s automatic response.

His friend looked at him skeptically. "T.J…."

"I mean it, Vince," he said. "Spinelli isn't going to be my friend again after this one little thing." Suddenly, a memory entered T.J.'s brain; it was what Spinelli had told him right before he left her in Becky's room. "She even said so."

"Of course she did," Vince muttered, rolling his eyes. "I'll bet she didn't even thank you."

"Actually, she did," T.J. told him. "Right before she told me that it didn't change anything."

Vince just chuckled and shook his head. "You're a better man than I am, Teej. I wouldn't have let that bitch on my door step."

T.J. shrugged for what felt like the millionth time that morning. "She was really hungry, Vince, I could tell. She needed… help." He almost said that she needed_ him_, but he didn't want Vince to get the wrong idea.

His friend just nodded. "Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say."

Suddenly another memory came to T.J.; the one when Spinelli told him not to tell anyone about what he was doing for her.

_Oops._

"Hey Vince," T.J. said.

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, sort of forgot that Spinelli didn't want me to mention this to anyone else," T.J. said, adjusting his hat. "So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't—"

"Say no more, Teej," Vince said, raising his palm to let T.J. know he didn't need to explain anything else. "Besides, why would I tell anyone you wasted your time helping such a piece of trash?"

"She's not trash," T.J. said a little harsher than he meant to.

Vince blinked in surprise. After a moment, his dark eyes narrowed and his voice was stern. "Look man, I understand that you and Spinelli _reconnected _or whatever last night, but try not to make a big deal about it."

"Make a big deal out of it?" T.J. echoed with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Vince sighed. "I mean that you shouldn't try getting her to be your friend again. She hasn't changed; she's still that bratty punk who ditched us in seventh grade."

T.J. couldn't help but laugh. Like he would ever try to become friends with Spinelli again… what a joke. T.J. was optimistic, not stupid. He knew that Spinelli wasn't interested in friendship; she just needed a place to sleep for a few hours.

"Relax, Vince," he said, giving his friend a playful slap on the back. "I'm not even going to waste my time."

Vince broke into a grin and shared a fist bump with T.J. "That's what I like to hear," he said. "You had me worried for a minute."

The bell rang and the boys got up to head to their first class.

"So, Vince…"

"What?"

"I didn't know that you stole my sister's diary after I gave it back to her."

Vince's dark eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What are you—" His face lit up with memory. "Oh!" He laughed. "Yeah, after you gave it back to her, me and Spin…" He trailed off, and his smile faded a bit at Spinelli's name. "I mean, yeah, a few weeks later we stole it back. It was my idea. I totally forgot it was still in the tree house after all this time."

T.J. grinned. "I'm not so sure how much good it will do me now since Becky doesn't live at home anymore."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Vince told him. "Hey, maybe you could read it out loud during her wedding reception."

T.J. knew it was bad, but he actually considered it for a moment.

"Vince!" cried a feminine voice behind them.

The boys turned around to see a slender girl with auburn hair waving at them. Vince grinned, probably because his girlfriend seemed to be in a good mood this morning; happy mornings were rare for Ashley Q. Vince tended to avoid her until at least 10 AM.

"I'll see you in class, Teej," Vince said as he started walking away.

"See ya," T.J. said, watching his friend hurry toward his girlfriend. They hugged and Ashley gave him a kiss on the cheek. T.J. couldn't help but grin a bit. He was glad that his best friend was happy.

He walked to class, waving and nodded "hellos" to most of the people he passed. T.J. was very social, and got along with virtually everyone in school. T.J. was definitely considered popular; maybe he wasn't as "cool" as Vince, but people tended to like T.J. more. He was always friendly and tried to make everyone feel included. He had plenty of friends; probably a majority of the kids in school considered T.J. to be a friend. And he liked this; he liked being "everybody's friend."

But he would've given all of it up to get his five best friends from elementary school back. Maybe that sounded pathetic, missing his childhood friends when he was almost a senior in high school. But those kids were special. He had never known a more loyal, fun group of people.

Obviously he couldn't tell Vince about this; he'd just laugh in T.J.'s face. But T.J. couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like if Gus hadn't moved, or if Gretchen hadn't switched schools, or—most importantly—if Spinelli wouldn't have rejected them.

T.J.'s thoughts were interrupted when he reached his destination; Mr. Myer's history class. He got out his paper, which probably sucked thanks to not having time to proof-read it, and placed it on the teacher's desk. Then he took his usual seat in the back row and prepared for another boring class.

People around T.J. would talk to him, but he had trouble focusing on any conversation. He kept thinking about what Vince said about not trying to befriend Spinelli. He knew Vince was right; he should just let it go. As much as he missed Spinelli, he knew he shouldn't waste his time on her. She wasn't even that nice to him this morning, and acted like she didn't care about him at all. She just wanted to use his stupid tree house. She had no interested in becoming close again.

Nope, there was no point in trying to be friends again. No point at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Spinelli yawned as she made her way through the front door of Matt's Auto Shop.

"Hey there, Spinelli," a gruff voice called from behind the counter. It was Matt, the owner and head mechanic. He was a heavy balding man who wore his mechanic uniform 24/7. "You working today?"

"That's the plan," Spinelli muttered, lifting her duffel bag higher on her shoulder.

Matt nodded as he flipped through some papers. "You're here sort of early today, aren't you?"

"I guess," Spinelli said with a shrug.

Matt nodded again, not looking up. That was the nice thing about Matt; he never asked questions, so he never asked about Spinelli going to school. Hell, she didn't even think he knew if she went to school or not. Matt just needed a good mechanic, and Spinelli was a damn good one.

Spinelli wasn't officially employed at the shop. She would just come in to Matt's and help with what she could, and Matt would give her some cash. So maybe it _was_ a job… but Spinelli was welcome to come in any time she wanted to, unlike the other guys who had schedules and probably got paid a heck of a lot more than she did.

The teen grabbed her dark blue uniform from the back of the shop and headed for the bathroom. Spinelli stared at herself in the cracked, water-spotted mirror. She hadn't washed her hair in nearly two days and it was starting to show.

She reached into her duffel bag and pulled out some of the stuff she swiped from Becky's room before she left. This included a half empty bottle of shampoo, a hair brush, a travel-sized bottle of lotion, and an unopened tube of Chap Stick. Spinelli convinced herself not to feel bad about stealing the items. It wasn't like they were being used; she needed this crap a lot more than T.J.'s sister did.

Spinelli took off her clothes and turned on the faucet and let the sink run until the brown water turned clear. Then she dunked her head in and lathered up the shampoo.

_There's nothing like washing your hair in a dirty sink at an Auto Shop to start your day,_ Spinelli thought.

After that, she slathered lotion all over and applied deodorant. She towel-dried her hair for a while, but it was still pretty damp when she decided to pull it into a pony tail. Then she put on her uniform and applied her signature eyeliner.

"There," Spinelli said, admiring her reflection. Not bad for getting ready in a bathroom the size of a small closet.

When Spinelli came out, there were more guys at the shop. They all grinned and waved, but Spinelli pretended not to see them. Her co-workers were always hitting on her or teasing her for being the only female worker. This pissed Spinelli off to no end. The only reason she continued to work there was because she liked cars and she thought Matt was okay.

Well… someone else was okay, too. Jerome, a kid who graduated from her school last year, worked there and he was okay. Spinelli didn't know Jerome very well until she started working at Matt's; before, she just knew him as one of the boys who guarded King Bob back in elementary school. But Jerome was somewhat of a cool guy. He wasn't really a friend, but he was more tolerable than most of the goons who worked there.

"What have we got today, Matt?" Spinelli asked her boss, who was still behind the counter.

Matt flipped through a few papers and said, "Four oil changes and a broken stereo."

Spinelli frowned. "That's it?"

"Yep," he nodded his head, making his double chin look like a triple chin. "But hey, it's early. Business will pick up."

Spinelli rolled her eyes and got to work. She could change oil in her sleep, and fixing a stereo was usually no big deal. This was going to be a boring day… but it was better than going to school and possibly running into T.J.

She had lifted the hood of a crappy Oldsmobile when a voice said, "Hey Spinelli."

"Hey Jerome," Spinelli said without looking up.

"No school today?"

Spinelli rolled her eyes. That was the thing she didn't like about Jerome; whenever she skipped school to work, he always had to say something about it.

"Right, no school," she grunted.

She sensed Jerome nodding. "Oil change?"

"Yeah," Spinelli confirmed, leaning forward to get started.

As she changed the oil, Jerome continued to stand around. This annoyed Spinelli, but she didn't say anything. She had a job to do; if Jerome wanted to stand around and waste time, that was his problem.

"Not very talkative today, are you Spinelli?" he asked.

"Not very productive today, are you Jerome?" she shot back.

Jerome laughed. "There's nothing much to do right now. Billy and Jamie are taking care of the other oil changes, and Matt wants you to check out the busted stereo."

Spinelli finished changing the oil and shut the hood. "So what's the point of you having a job here if you don't do anything?"

Jerome just chuckled. "Wow, you're grumpier than usual. What happened?"

"Nothing," Spinelli insisted, trying to sound less hostile to prove him wrong. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Boy, was that the truth. As soon as Spinelli fell asleep, it felt like she had to wake up again. She slipped out of the Detweilers' house around five thirty so she could make an easy getaway. How humiliating would it have been if she ran into T.J.'s parents? What would she say to them?

"Ah, I see," Jerome said with a nod. "Well, you obviously don't want to talk about it, so I'll leave you alone. See ya later Spinelli."

"Later," Spinelli mumbled, heading over to the truck with the broken speaker.

As she worked, her thoughts began to wander. She'd been hoping that her job would keep her mind off of what had happened last night, but instead it forced her to think about it even more. The thing was, what happened at T.J.'s tree house wasn't the worst part of her night. No, the worst part had started a few hours before…

_Spinelli spent most of Sunday working at the garage. She spent the night before at Skeens's place, but they'd gotten into a fight the next morning. Honestly, Spinelli wasn't even sure how the fight started; something about the toilet seat. She'd been mad that he didn't have the courtesy to put it back down, and Skeens responded with, "It's my house, I can leave it down if I want!" The argument escalated from there, and Spinelli had left with a huff. Needless to say, she would be spending the night at Sue Bob's tonight._

_After she helped close up the shop, she called Sue Bob to let her know she was crashing at her place tonight. She knew Sue Bob's mom wouldn't mind. Mrs. Murphy was usually too drunk to even notice her daughter had company. Still, Spinelli figured she'd at least give Sue Bob a heads up. _

_Sue Bob didn't answer her phone, and Spinelli didn't bother leaving a message (she hated leaving voice mails; something about it just felt weird) before coming. _

_After a forty minute walk, Spinelli finally made it to the Murphy's double wide. It'd been a busy day at the shop and she just wanted to get to bed._

_Spinelli opened the front door to the little house, then the screen door that creaked so loud it probably woke up the whole neighborhood. The house looked the same as usual; dirty dishes piled the sink in the kitchen, a music video playing on the cracked television set, and Sue Bob's three smelly dogs were running around the house._

"_Sue Bob?" Spinelli called. She didn't see anyone on the couch, which was usually Mrs. Murphy's hang out. "Hey, Sue! You home?"_

_Spinelli wandered down the narrow hallway, passed the hall closet and the bathroom that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. Then she came to Sue Bob's room._

_The door was closed, but she heard a muffled sound from inside. It sounded like Sue Bob's raspy voice. But then she heard a different sound. A male sound. A familiar male sound. Actually, it sounded a whole lot like…_

_Spinelli's breath caught in her throat. _

"_No," she whispered. "It's impossible."_

_But it wasn't like Spinelli could just walk away from it. She had to find out once and for all who was in there with Sue Bob._

_Before she could stop herself, Spinelli twisted the door handle and stepped inside. When she saw Sue Bob tangled up in bed sheets with Skeens, her jaw dropped. _

_Sue Bob and Skeens had turned toward the door, and their shocked expressions mirrored Spinelli._

_For a second, Spinelli forgot how to breathe… she forgot how to move, how to think. All she could do was gape. It was Skeens's stupid voice that made her snap out of it._

"_Uh, hey Spin," he said, sounding like the complete moron that he was. _

_Well that did it. Spinelli suddenly remembered how to move, and she wanted nothing more than to get out of there as soon as possible. _

"_Spinelli, wait up!" Sue Bob called, but Spinelli hurried through the house as far as she could._

_She was running down the steps by the front door when Sue Bob pulled her arm. _

"_Spin, wait!" Sue Bob cried. Her stringy brown hair looked messier than ever. Spinelli had a sudden urge to yank it all out._

_Spinelli tried pulling her arm away, but for a bean pole, Sue Bob was fairly strong. Spinelli wanted to tell her to let go, but she found herself so angry that she wasn't able to speak. _

"_Just let me explain," Sue Bob pleaded. _

_Spinelli jutted her arm forward, then threw it back as hard as she could, making Sue Bob lose her grip and stagger backwards. It was at this moment when Skeens appeared on the porch._

"_Spin, I—"_

_Skeens wasn't able to finish his sentence because Spinelli had just punched him in the face. Not a slap; Spinelli wasn't into girly little slaps. Punches were a lot more effective. _

_Suddenly, she found her voice: _

"_Fuck you. Fuck you both."_

_Then she disappeared into the night, leaving Skeens clutching his bleeding nose._

_Afterwards, Spinelli walked. She walked for hours; she was so mad she didn't know what else to do. _

_She couldn't believe her boyfriend and friend would do that to her. Well, actually, she could believe it. She knew Skeens had kissed other girls when they were fighting; hell, she had made out with other guys herself. But hooking up with Sue Bob? That was a whole new low. _

_She had actually considered Sue Bob to be the best friend she had, which was sad in itself, but true. Spinelli liked Sue Bob's laid back personality, and they managed to get along pretty well. Sue Bob never minded when Spinelli spent the night, and sometimes they even had fun together. _

_None of that mattered now. Spinelli wondered how long this had been going on. They'd probably hooked up with her in the same building and she hadn't even noticed. _

_Before she knew it, she was crying. There was nothing in the world she hated more than crying, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't like she was madly in love with Skeens or anything. Still… he was supposed to be her boyfriend, and he'd just done who-knows-what with her friend. She hoped she broke his nose._

_Then there was that slut Sue Bob, possibly the only person who was even close to being a friend to her, carelessly making out with her boyfriend. Spinelli wished she would've punched her in the face too._

_Spinelli flipped open her phone to tell the time; it past one o'clock in the morning. Besides the time, she noticed that she had zero missed calls and voice messages. No one had even called her to apologize. Not that she expected them to._

_Stomach growling, Spinelli stopped at a gas station and bought some crappy food with some of her earnings from earlier in the day. Then she had to try to figure out where the hell she was going to sleep. Obviously she couldn't stay with Kurst or Mundy or any of the other kids in their "gang." How was she supposed to explain to them that she was only staying with them because Sue Bob and Skeens were… God, she couldn't even think about what they were doing!_

_And there was no way in hell she was going to stay with her lame-ass parents, even though their house was about five blocks away from the gas station she was at. She thought of something else that was almost the same distance… _

_T.J. Detweiler's house. _

_Spinelli snorted at the idea. Yeah right. She'd almost rather spend the night with Bob and Flo. _

_But thinking about T.J.'s house gave Spinelli an idea. She knew that the old tree house they used to play in was still in the Detweiler's yard. And a long time ago, T.J. told her and the others that they could come there whenever they wanted to. Why wouldn't that offer still stand?_

"How's it coming, Spinelli?"

Spinelli flinched. She was so deep in her thoughts that she almost forgot where she was.

"I'm almost done," Spinelli answered. She looked down at the stereo, surprised that she was indeed almost finished. Apparently she really _could_ fix sound systems and change oil in her sleep. Not that she'd been sleeping, but recalling that awful memory sure felt like a nightmare.

"Keep up the good work," Matt said, obviously satisfied. But he didn't just walk away like he usually did.

Spinelli cocked an eyebrow at her boss. "Something wrong, Matt?"

The large man cleared his throat and looked slightly uncomfortable. "Uh, look Spinelli, I've noticed you've been working pretty hard around here lately."

"Yeah, well, I try," Spinelli said, trying hard not to sound as flustered as she felt. Receiving complements made her feel weird.

"Look," Matt sighed. "I appreciate all the hard work you've been doing, Spinelli, I really do. But if you ever need a break or something, just let me know. I don't want to overwork you, kid."

Spinelli frowned. What the hell was this all about? Matt hardly talked to her at all (he was a man of few words), and now he was suggesting that she take a break?

_Things could be worse,_ Spinelli thought. _He could be nagging about why I'm not at school._

"Thanks, but I'm fine." She focused on broken radio as she spoke. "I don't mind working a lot. Besides, it's not like I've got anything better to do."

Matt just nodded. "Alright, whatever you say. Thanks again for the extra help. You're better than most of the clowns who work here full time."

She couldn't help but smirk at that remark. "Thanks boss."

Spinelli finished fixing the stereo, and business picked up from there. She worked on cars nonstop all day, not even stopping to take a lunch break. After hours of lifting up car hoods, twisting wrenches, and carrying tires, the shop was closing down.

Spinelli helped the guys clean up the shop, doing her best to ignore the whispers and stares. Her co-workers used to openly hit on her and make rude comments, until one day when she pinned a guy named Louie against the wall after he pinched her ass and called her a cutie. Since then, guys laid off a little more. There was the occasional comment about her looks, but nothing bad enough to make Spinelli physically hurt anyone.

Spinelli changed out of her uniform and grabbed her duffel bag from the back room. She was walking out of the garage when she almost ran right into Jerome.

"Sorry, Spin," Jerome said, genuinely meaning it.

"It's cool," Spinelli replied.

_Don't ask about the bag, don't ask about the bag…_

"What's with the bag?" Jerome asked, nodding at the big blue duffel. "You going on a trip or something?"

_He's nosier than T.J.!_ Spinelli thought.

She blinked. _T.J.?_ Why had she even thought about him?

"Spinelli?" Jerome's voice snapped her back to reality. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Spinelli answered, shaking her head. She lifted up her bag and said, "I'm spending the night at a friend's place."

Jerome grinned. "Just a night? It looks like you're staying for a _month_. That bag is huge!"

Spinelli just rolled her eyes. Talk about annoying.

"Later," she mumbled, pushing past him.

"Wait," he said, making her stop. "Spinelli, are you okay?"

Time for another eye-roll.

"Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm okay?" Spinelli demanded as she turned around.

Jerome shrugged. "You just seem kind of… tense."

"I'm always tense," Spinelli pointed out.

Jerome nodded. "True. But you seem extra tense today, and really quiet."

"I'm not exactly a chatterbox," Spinelli deadpanned.

Jerome sighed. "Look, forget I said anything. Have a good night, Spinelli."

"You too," she replied, watching him walk away. He may have been nosy, but at least he knew when to drop a subject… unlike T.J.

Spinelli hoisting the bag higher on her shoulder and walked. Much like the night before, Spinelli walked and walked and walked…

She had nowhere to go. She couldn't stay with any of her "friends." For a second she considered calling up Jerome and asking to stay with him, but quickly changed her mind. It would be too weird. Jerome was one of the few people in her life who she could carry on a somewhat conversation with, and asking to stay at his house would probably fuck that up.

There was always the park bench, or outside the gas station. She might get kidnapped (or worse) but what other option did she have?

As she was thinking this over, Spinelli realized that her feet had taken her all the way to the neighborhood she used to live in. Only she wasn't in front of her house, she was in front of T.J.'s. She wondered how the hell she ended up here; she must have been so deep in thought that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going.

Spinelli looked up at the big tree house and felt a warm, early summer wind caress her face. She closed her eyes and was instantly reminded of all those late summer nights she'd spent at this very tree house with her old friends. Back in first grade, they would have contests to see who could catch the most fireflies (Vince always won). When they got a little older, Gretchen would bring what they used to call "The Star Book," which showed where constellations were in the sky and what they meant. Spinelli and her friends would spend hours trying to find all the star patterns. In sixth grade, they'd play Truth or Dare, but a silly, more innocent version than what most people think of when someone mentions Truth or Dare. A dare would be someone having to sneak into Becky's room and stealing something, or eating a whole bowl of Rocky Road in less than one minute, while telling a "truth" would be asking something like, "What's the grossest thing you've ever eaten?" or "Would you rather have a unibrow or an green tongue?" Spinelli and the others had shared many laughs over that stupid game.

She slowly opened her eyes and stared at the house. It was strange, seeing it sitting there with no children laughing or playing in and around it. It seemed so cold and dark; just an empty shell. It was hard to believe that it used to be so welcoming and crowded.

Taking a deep breath, Spinelli walked across the freshly cut grass. When she got to the big tree, she immediately looked at the second story window that faced right across from the tree house. Her heart hammered in her chest when she saw a familiar brown haired boy at his computer.

Spinelli quickly climbed up the ladder, hoping that he wouldn't see her. The last thing she needed was a repeat of last night.

But out of the corner of her eye, Spinelli could see T.J. watching her. He'd seen her!

She climbed faster until she reached the door. She pushed it open and climbed inside, greeting by the nostalgic smell of wood and chocolate. After placing her duffel bag in a corner, Spinelli crept toward the window. She looked across the yard toward T.J.'s bedroom and saw him closing the blinds and turning off a light.

"Crap," Spinelli muttered. "He's coming up here." There was a rumble in her stomach, and she was reminded that she hadn't eaten all day. "Well," Spinelli said with a small smile, "if he does come up, maybe I'll at least get a meal out of it."

So she leaned against her bag and picked up Becky's old diary, which had been left there from the other night. After reading a few entries about Becky's ideas for new Floppy Burger uniforms, Spinelli was hit with a wave of exhaustion. It was time to call it a night.

But where was T.J.? Surely he'd be coming up soon to bug Spinelli soon…

Spinelli checked her phone. It had been almost twenty minutes since she'd seen T.J. And she knew that he saw her. So why hadn't he come up yet?

She peeked out the window again. The light in T.J.'s bedroom was out; she looked at the sliding glass door that revealed a dark, empty kitchen. No T.J.

Spinelli read a bit more about Becky's "totally dramatic teenager life" (that's how Becky described it anyway), but after twenty more minutes, she decided it was time to get some much-needed sleep.

After gathering some pillows that were scattered around the little house, Spinelli pulled out her blanket and snuggled under it. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn't as nice as T.J.'s sister's bed. Better than a park bench though.

"Well," Spinelli whispered in the darkness. "T.J. didn't come up here. He didn't bother me. He left me alone, just like he promised me he would." She sighed and glanced at his dark room again. Nope, no T.J. tonight. It was just going to be her, alone in the tree house with no ex-friend nosing around in her business.

Yep… no T.J. There would be no silly little visit tonight, which was what Spinelli had wanted.

So why did she feel so disappointed and sad?


End file.
